His Last Command Came Back to Kill Him novel Chapter 139

She hadn't expected him to show up in the first place.

During past memorials for Shamar, Clive had cited work emergencies to excuse his absence, only to be spotted out at an art exhibition keeping Yelena company.

Her heart had died to him a long time ago. Whether he showed up or not meant absolutely nothing to her.

But Bonnie's face turned stern. "What kind of nonsense is that? I made it perfectly clear to him. He must be here today."

"On a day this important, if he dares not show his face, I'll have his head."

Unable to argue with the stubborn matriarch, and unwilling to cause a scene on the day of the memorial, Whitley retreated to a quiet corner of the courtyard and dialed Clive's number.

It rang for an excruciatingly long time before it was finally, lazily answered.

"What is it?"

His voice was cold and detached, entirely devoid of any concern, as if today were just another meaningless Wednesday.

Whitley’s throat constricted. The words died in her chest, settling into a heavy, agonizing ache.

Despite Bonnie’s repeated orders, he hadn’t taken the memorial seriously for even a second.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a familiar, sickeningly sweet voice drifted through the receiver—

"Clive, does this necklace look good? I've been trying to decide for ages."

It was Yelena.

Yelena hadn’t bothered to show up today either, despite the fact that the Zimmerman family had taken her in and helped raise her.

Whitley found it incredibly laughable.

In the background, she could faintly hear the upbeat, relaxed music of a high-end department store—a stark, jarring contrast to the heavy, mourning atmosphere at the estate.

His so-called "business" was accompanying Yelena on a jewelry shopping spree.

Whitley took a deep breath. Without saying a single word, she ended the call.

She walked back to the group with a perfectly composed face, but only she knew that her fingertips had gone numb with cold.

Everyone continued setting up the altar, silently waiting for Clive's arrival.

An hour passed. The front door remained empty.

Bonnie's face grew darker by the minute.

Javier finally lost his temper, his voice dripping with venom. "He certainly has an inflated ego. Making the entire family wait on him."

"If he's not coming, it's fine," Whitley said, her voice so soft it was barely audible.

To Clive, nothing in the universe mattered more than a single pout from Yelena.

Bonnie looked at her. "What did he say on the phone earlier?"

Whitley lightly bit her lip. "He's busy."

He only had eyes for Yelena. When Yelena bullied her, he turned a blind eye. When Whitley suffered, he blamed her for it. And now, he had the audacity to play the role of a grieving family member.

Caleb’s face turned ugly. "Watch how you speak to me! I'm your brother."

His gaze swept the room. Realizing the only Sherwood present was the elderly matriarch, he let out a mocking laugh. Lowering his voice, he practically spat the words, aiming right for Whitley's deepest insecurities.

"I suggest you wise up and divorce Clive before things get uglier."

"He only loves Yelena. What's the point of clinging to him like a desperate dog? He won't even show up for Shamar's memorial. Aren't you embarrassed holding onto this sham of a marriage?"

"You've tried so hard all these years, and has he ever even looked at you? If Shamar knew what you've become, he'd be humiliated."

Every word was a blade driven straight into her heart.

Whitley’s body ran cold, her chest heaving violently. A sudden, crushing wave of dizziness from her chemo crashed over her, her vision turning black at the edges.

Before she could fire back, a familiar male voice cut through the tension from the doorway, carrying a lazy, unapologetic tone.

"Apologies. I got held up on the way. I'm late."

Whitley’s head snapped toward the sound.

Clive stood in the doorway, dressed in a sharp, immaculate suit, his posture tall and commanding.

And right behind him, wearing a bright, radiant smile, was Yelena.